


Incompatible

by Oienel



Category: Korean Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 07:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: From the smallest things to the most important, you two have literally no common ground. Name it, and for sure you will feel differently about it than Haein does.





	Incompatible

What do you want to eat? I’m literally dreaming about chicken.”

“…pasta.” Both chicken and pasta are said at the same time. You look up at him, and you see him blinking slowly, and then he smiles at you brightly.

“Pasta it is.” He says, and puts down chicken’s place leaflet. You immediately feel guilty, and grab his hand.

“We can eat chicken. Let’s eat chicken.” You grab the leaflet to check their offer, and he smiles at you and shakes his head.

“No, no, let’s eat pasta. What do you want? Carbonara? Spinach pasta?” He is already turning around and browsing through cabinets in the kitchen. You are in his apartment, sitting at the kitchen island. This whole thing is still relatively new to you. Being here.

Dating him.

“But you wanted chicken…” You know you are whining, but you are so uncomfortable it hurts.

“And now I want to eat pasta.” He doesn’t even turn around, voice stern when he speaks. You fall silent, anxious, and he turns around, sporting this adorable, bright smile. “Will you help me?”

You nod and stand up, joining him on the other side of the island.

How is it that you are never compatible?

*

Everything is like that, from the smallest things to the most important, you have literally no common ground. He is early riser, you could sleep through the day. You like mountains, he prefers sea. He loves artsy movies, you are more a soap operas person. You push toothpaste starting from the back, he just squeezes the container in the middle. He wets toothbrush before putting on the toothpaste, you do it after.

You like still water, he can’t drink water unless it’s sparkling. He drinks beer, you drink vodka. You couldn’t care less about germs, and he brings antibacterial gel wherever he goes.

Name it, and you are sure that you will feel differently about it than he does.

You have no idea why the two of you are dating. He is handsome, oh yes, he _is_. He is also nice, and has beautiful smile, and he knows how to talk and how to keep the conversation up – but every time you talk you end up disagreeing. Not fighting, but you are sure that’s what future has in store for you – constant disagreeing can’t lead to peaceful and happy ending.

But there is something about him that makes you want to keep trying. Maybe there is something you can actually agree on.

So the search continues.

*

“What are we going to do today?” He asks, and you look to your right trying to quickly decide. What do you want to do? You would love to go out, and have fun. It’s Saturday, staying seems just sad. But if you want to go out that means, he wants to stay, and you like him, and you are trying, so you can pass this once.

“Movie?”

“Clubbing?” You both blink, and he is the first to start laughing. You smile, but you are hung up on the fact that he had actually went through your exact line of thought and again you both ended on the opposing sides of the spectrum.

_How?_

“Let’s stay in today.” You say, and he throws his arm around you, and shakes his head.

“Nah, I know you want to go out, let’s hit some clubs.” He is so sweet.

“But you said that you want to watch this new movie.”

“But you don’t even like my movies.” He says and kisses your forehead. It’s tender and sweet, and surprise, surprise – you prefer man that are more _rough_ around the edges.

“And you don’t like my clubs.” You counter, he just smiles even broader.

“I can manage.”

“So can I.” He sighs and his hand slides of your shoulder.

“Do we really have to fight about this?” He asks, and there is a notch of resignation in his voice, and you sighs as well.

“No, we don’t, so let’s stay in.”

“Honey…”

You prefer being called by your first name, but what’s new. The fact that another disagreement will be the theme of your evening is not new, either.

*

“Haein!” You call for him from your bedroom. You promised him that you’d go with him to theatre, and he came too early, so you didn’t have enough time to prepare. But since he came you might as well as him for help.

He comes, but stops in the doorway, seeing you in your underwear. You can see in his face that he is uncomfortable, yet another thing that divides you.

You bring two dresses up. Both black, but one has 3/4 sleeves, narrow waist and loose skirt ending just below the knee. The other is a maxi dress with lacy sleeves and lacy back.

He seems like it costs him a lot to just look at you while you hold both of them up, but he is a dutiful boyfriend, and he scans both of them, skipping you in the middle.

“The shorter one.” He says, and you nod. Just like you thought you are going to wear the maxi one. He sees you putting down the one he chosen, and he shakes his head. “Why did you even bother asking?”

You are not sure either, so you shrug.

“I think I just wanted you to see me half naked.” You joke, and he shakes his head again.

“That’s exactly what I can’t understand.” His voice is quiet, but you hear him as he walks away. You decide it’s not a time for a fight. _Another_ fight.

 *

You kiss him as soon as you come back. The play? It wasn’t your cup of tea, and you talked about it, and you disagreed, and it was a very stressful evening for you, because you expected traditional play, with clear acts and plot line, but what you got was some kind of metaphysical search for identity topped with nudity and screaming.

Nudity was the only part you enjoyed.

And of course, nudity was the only thing that Haein didn’t enjoy.

You kiss him, because you need a reminder _why_ exactly you are dating.

It’s wrong. You are urgent, and you are needy, and he smiles into the kiss, hands resting on your hips, he teases your lips, when you need him to be rough. _Rougher_.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, and you wet your lips, chasing the taste, and you open your eyes, seeing him searching your face. He is just standing there, seemingly content, his hands still on your hips.

You grow hot, both from arousal hitting you and for annoyance, and your hands go straight for his fly, but he steps away. You don’t know whether he saw you, or he had decided it’s enough, but he walks away, and you follow him with your eyes.

“I’m thirsty. Water?” It’s unbelievable. How can you differ so much. _How_.

“I’m thirsty.” You say pointedly, walking after him, opening your dress (it’s not that easy, so you barely get it done, before he turns around). He sets two glasses on the counter just in time to see the dress slide down your body, leaving you in your underwear and pantyhose.

He blinks, looking at you and starts pouring water.

“What are we going to do after you change? Netflix?”

“…sex.” He looks up, and blinks slowly again. “But not after I change. Now.”

“Oh.” He says, and has the audacity to drink, while you stand in the middle of the room, half-naked. You are so ready to take an offence.

He puts the glass back on the counter.

“Ok.” You raise your eyebrow at him, and he smiles shrugging his shoulders. He comes to you, and your heart starts beating faster, and he kisses you, and you are expecting so much, but his hands stay on your hips, and his tongue doesn’t come out of his mouth, and, yes, once again you are not matching.

At least he was in for the sex part.

You _don’t_ match.

You drag him back to the bedroom, and you push him on the bed, but he sits down. You want him to be quick, leaving clothes on, but he takes them off. You climb on his lap, and he carefully moves you to the bed. You are quick to open and throw away your bra, while he slowly rolls down your pantyhose.

He kisses you when both of you are already naked, his hands leisurely caressing your sides, as if too shy to move for a goal. Your hands are not shy, you don’t refrain from sliding them down his broad back, or defined torso, you don’t stop yourself from sinking your nails into his ass, earning you a surprised grunt from him.

You are too impatient for him. You try to be indulging, letting him go in his own pace, but it seems too vanilla – there is nothing wrong with vanilla, but… It’s not you.

You push him away, to reach to your night stand, and you hear him stand up, but you focus on finding the condoms. When you do, you turn around triumphantly, and you see Haein taking one out of his wallet.

You both freeze.

“Why would you keep condoms in your night stand?” He asks, and you have to admit it’s quite funny. Naked people are just funny.

“To keep them handy?” You are asking, not stating, and it earns you a laugh.

“That’s a thing I can agree with.” He says, and it hits you that he probably thinks about how you _don’t_ match as well.

You just motion for him to come, and you are not careful nor slow when you push him on the bed. You just straddle him (knowing well enough that if you left him to his own devices you’d be going missionary – but you don’t feel like laying down), roll condom down on him,  fitting it, and earning yourself another groan, and you just slide down on it. His hands grab your hips, and he puts pressure on them to cushion your slide.

Which is ridiculous.

“No.” You say at him, and you grab his hands, and move them up, so they cup your breasts. He looks like he needs to jump-start his brain, but you don’t give him time to do it. You just go for _a ride._

That you love. With how much you don’t match, you like how accommodating he is, so often ceding to you. Like right now, when he starts playing with your breasts, while you ride him, rolling your hips, to stimulate yourself from every angle possible. It’s like scratching an itch, and it’s just amazing.

It’s even more amazing, when you break out in sweat, and you moan, filling otherwise quiet room with your noises, dulling out the obscene sounds of you sliding up and down.

Suddenly he sits up, bringing you close, and it’s not that you would have liked, but when he kisses you, you don’t complain.

You don’t do it not only because he effectively shuts you up (maybe he prefers quiet sex?), but also because his fingers do surprising thing – finding your clitoris.

You ain’t going to complain about that.

If that’s your reward for being quiet, you can be quiet.

You go wild after that with a hand on your hip steadying you, and thumb of your clitoris riling you up – it’s as if he was torn as well. You bite your own lip throwing your head back, thighs hurting like a bitch, but you are not going to slow down (maybe because it’s what _he_ wants).

Suddenly you feel teeth on your bared neck, tentative, but sinking in nonetheless, and you keen, high, even though you tried not to, but you can’t stop yourself when your orgasm, comes like a wave rolling through your body, it’s a sensation that couldn’t get better.

Except it does when he throws you on the bed, and it’s everything you’ve wanted.

But when he goes to reach his own finish he is slow and loving, and it’s seems like it’s everything that he wanted.

He is quiet when he comes, and stands up immediately after to clean up. You are content to sleep, all dirty and sweaty, you can always change sheets the next day. But he cleans up, cleans the clothes from the floor, and nudges you to go to the bathroom.

You whine.

“We can never agree on anything, do we?” He asks, shaking his head.

“But the sex is good?” You say, as a joke, not to talk about that.

“True.”

Maybe the whole thing isn’t perfect, but when you look at his exasperated smile, you still want to try.

So you do.

 


End file.
